


Brightside

by sonderland



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Femdom, Fluff and Smut, Handcuffs, Intimidation, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Modern AU, Multi, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, PWP, Praise Kink, Relationship Negotiation, Resolved Sexual Tension, Threesome - F/M/M, Top Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25077943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonderland/pseuds/sonderland
Summary: "I'm worried you're going to kill me.""Oh, Jaskier," Yennefer smiled, surprising herself with her own fondness. "I still might."A fic inspired by this TFLN:(601):I think the threesome was inevitable when she walked out in nothing but his boxers followed by him completely naked.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 8
Kudos: 201





	Brightside

Geralt and Yennefer were dating again.

Jaskier had resigned himself to a night of noise-cancelling headphones and lyric-writing in the living room. As far as living with Geralt, it wasn't the _most_ challenging situation he'd been in.  
  
For one thing, there was his massive crush on Geralt. But that was hardly his fault; Jaskier had always had a thing for people who looked like they could break him in half.  
  
And Geralt had certainly looked like he wanted to when they first met. Jaskier had been looking to rent out his spare room--singing in bars just wasn't paying the bills--and Geralt had loomed into the apartment looking like an angry romance novel. He could move in right away, he had similar hours to Jaskier, and, most importantly, he could pay the admittedly exorbitant rent. Jaskier suspected that he killed people for a living.  
  
He didn't, as Jaskier later learned. He was a bouncer.  
  
And, for the sake of their roommate-ship, Jaskier quashed his initial attraction, though he couldn't resist a bit of a flirt from time to time, especially on the odd occasions when they were working at the same bar. But it wasn't as if Geralt had ever reciprocated, and Jaskier had largely let it go.  
  
But, Jaskier mused, they had gotten a lot closer in the year they'd lived together, hadn't they. Geralt had saved Jaskier's life more than once, especially when he was confronted by a former hookup's angry ex (especially if they hadn't been "ex" when Jaskier had hooked up with the person in question). And Jaskier had helped Geralt after his hardest work nights, when he had gotten into fights so bad he couldn't even get himself into the shower.

  
And hadn't _that_ been a sight to see.

  
It didn't help that Geralt was so unconcerned with his level of clothed-ness around the house. Especially when he was with Yennefer, who was, if anything, _more_ casual about her own nudity. Honestly, Jaskier thought, it was almost more than his bi little heart could take.

  
They'd been on-again off-again for almost the whole latter half of the year that Jaskier and Geralt had lived together. Jaskier had even borne witness to their first hookup. He'd woken up that afternoon with a terrible hangover to find them fully at it on the living room floor. Jaskier had turned right back around and had a furtive wank with his ear pressed against his bedroom door. Ah, memories.

  
If the noises coming from Geralt's room were anything to go by, it was on once again. Jaskier sighed and turned up the volume on his music. He really was trying to respect Geralt's privacy, honestly. To allow himself to dwell would be to invite madness. Madness, and admittedly some of his best lyrics yet.

  
But he didn't want to disturb the delicate friendship he'd struck up with Geralt over the past year. Even if he did think about lathering up his unbelievable arse more often than was necessarily platonic.

  
And Yennefer--well. She was almost as sexy as she was terrifying. Jaskier couldn't help a certain degree of cattiness towards her--well, he _could_ , but he didn't want to--as her and Geralt's relationship wasn't always exactly healthy. But Yennefer always snarked right back at Jaskier, and even he had to admit that she brought something out in Geralt. Something stupid, sure, but also something tender. Something Jaskier didn't see from him often, unless Geralt was saving him from getting his teeth punched in, or that time when Jaskier had gotten sick at the beginning of their first spring together. Geralt had taken care of him, barely leaving his side until he was well again.

  
And, going by pure aesthetics, the two of them together...

  
Jaskier groaned, rubbing his face. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Yennefer wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. Geralt was still pleasantly hazy. He would've cuddled her, if he had the use of his hands. Instead, Yennefer gave him a quizzical look.

"You haven't talked to Jaskier yet, have you." It wasn't a question.

Geralt turned his face away from her, mumbling something under his breath. 

Yennefer quirked her mouth into a disappointed little moue. "What was that?"

Geralt sighed. "The timing was never right."

"Of course, the all-important timing. Like Jaskier wouldn't jump on you if given half a chance."

Geralt still would not meet her eyes. "He's had chances."

"And have you actually used your words, during any of those chances?"

Geralt still wouldn't look at her.

"That's what I thought," said Yennefer.

She traced an idle hand over the scarred, sweaty planes of Geralt's chest. He wanted to take her hand, to return the comforting gesture, but the metal cuffs still bound his wrists. There was a different kind of comfort in that. 

"Tell me I'm wrong," murmured Yennefer. That shocked a raised eyebrow out of Geralt, and she gave him a wry smile.

"Tell me you don't want this, and I won't bring it up again. You've been dancing around each other since before I met you. I wasn't even sure you'd be interested in me at first, that's how much tension there was between you two."

Geralt made a low, disbelieving noise.

"It's true. But if there really is nothing there..."

Geralt thought of Jaskier, then. His wide blue eyes, his easy laugh, his nimble hands, his mouth...

And the way Jaskier had stood by him, in defiance of all reason and precaution. Geralt didn't know what to do about that, that care, and loyalty, and heart.

Well, he knew what he _wanted_ to do.

Geralt sank back onto the bed with a groan, wincing when he landed on his cuffed wrists. 

"Of course there's something there," he sighed. "I never would've brought it up, otherwise."

Yennefer patted his shoulder. "Of course not. You would've just buried it down and pretended it wasn't happening until you pushed him away. That's your thing."

Geralt glared. "That's a terrible thing."

"I know. That's why I got a jump on the process." Yennefer flicked him on the nose. "That's why I wanted to do this my way from the beginning."

"Your way?"

Yennefer grinned, in lieu of answering. "I could eat Jaskier in two bites. I like that in a man."

She stood up to give Geralt a kiss on the cheek, then left his field of vision. 

"Yen." Geralt shifted on the bed, pushing himself up on his elbows until he was sitting properly. "What are you doing?"

"If you must know, I'm getting a glass of water."  
  
Yennefer ignored the pile of her own perfectly serviceable clothes, and reached instead for a pair of black boxer shorts, half-flung over the bed frame. She slid them up her smooth legs, and Geralt let his eyes linger over her--nude from the waist up, his own underwear slung low on her hips--for a moment, before he realized the gravity of the situation.

  
Yennefer had made no move to retrieve the keys, and was moving instead to the bedroom door.

  
"Yen. You're not serious."

  
"Oh, but I am. Don't fret, I won't go far."

  
Geralt flexed his wrists against the cuffs. The metal pressed cold and biting into his skin, but they did not budge. "How am I supposed to get out of these?"

  
With her hand on the doorknob, Yennefer turned towards him and grinned.

  
"Well," she said, violet eyes flashing, "You're just going to have to catch me."

* * *

"Evening, Jaskier."

  
Though Yennefer stood mere inches from him, Jaskier did not appear to notice her. She rolled her eyes, then snatched his headphones, tossing them to the far end of the couch.

  
"What was that fo--oh." Jaskier blinked dumbly up at her.

  
He had seen her more undressed than this before, and more than once. But that had been when she was in the process of dressing, or when she was crossing from shower to bedroom, looking at him disdainfully or not at all, as if he mattered so little that she didn't care what he saw. This was different.

  
She stood with her hands on her hips, practically preening, her cascading waves of black hair utterly failing to conceal her breasts. The boxers (Geralt's, Jaskier recognized them) were slung low and snug across the sweet curve of her hips, her thighs bare beneath them.

  
Jaskier knew he shouldn't stare. He knew that, even as she tossed her glossy hair over one shoulder, revealing new swathes of collarbone and skin. He could see the high hardness of her nipples, the faint sheen of sweat on her skin. He could smell sex and Geralt and the sweet, flowery scent that was all Yennefer. He could not look away.

  
And then she stepped closer to him. A faint squeak escaped his throat. He couldn't _breathe_.

  
"Jaskier." Yennefer's voice was husky, and she smiled like a shark that scented blood. "I want you to help me play a game."

  
Jaskier nodded. What else could he do?

* * *

Geralt sighed. He didn't seem to have a choice.

  
He was sat on his bed, fully naked but for the cuffs that still refused to budge. Geralt knew that Yennefer was talking to Jaskier in the living room. He wasn't sure what she was saying, but he doubted that he would like it.

  
Or maybe he would.

  
Geralt stood up with all the dignity he could muster, and saw that Yennefer had left the door ajar.

  
How considerate.

* * *

"Yennefer," Geralt rumbled, "Enough."

  
Yennefer looked up from where she was leaning over Jaskier, unperturbed. Jaskier made a small, strangled sound.

  
"Oh, please," Yennefer leaned against the armrest, "I know you've seen him naked before."

  
"Yes, but not in--those," Jaskier mumbled.

  
Yennefer grinned. "The cuffs? Those were my addition. Silver is his color, don't you agree?"

  
Jaskier nodded, despite himself. Geralt growled, which only made Jaskier flush deeper.

  
"I said, enough. Where are the keys?"

  
"Keys?" Yennefer tapped a finger against her chin, all innocence. "I can't seem to recall."

  
"Yen," Geralt bit out. She only smiled at that.

  
"I'll tell you what. If you can take back what I've taken from you, you will earn your freedom."

  
"That's ridiculous. Jaskier, you take the boxers."

  
"What?!"

  
Yennefer rolled her eyes. "That's hardly sporting."

  
"And I can't do that!" Jaskier looked panicked. "She's _your_ girlfriend."

  
"That's right, Geralt, I'm _your_ girlfriend," she said, sweetly. "And if he tries, I'll run away."

  
"Into the hall? Like that?"

  
"Try me."

  
Geralt growled again, with feeling. "Fine. Jaskier, hold her back, so she doesn't try anything."

  
"Oh yes, so I don't try anything." Yennefer took Jaskier's stunned hands and wrapped them around her bare waist. "Careful, now."

Geralt sank to his knees in front of her. His teeth scraped below her navel as he bit into the elastic waistband, and Yennefer let out an involuntary little moan. 

Jaskier sucked in a quick breath. His arms were going slack around Yennefer's waist. One hand flopped down and encountered something soft, but solid; Jaskier realized, belatedly, that his hand was in Geralt's hair.

Barely blinking, Jaskier ran his hand through it until he encountered the tie holding it half-back. Geralt had closed his eyes at the sensation, but when Jaskier removing the tie tugged at his hair, his eyes shot open, pupils blown wide, a low, needy sound rumbling from his throat around a mouthful of fabric.

"Hey," Yennefer's face was flushed, her tone teasing. "Geralt. Focus. Jaskier, you too." She guided both of his hands back up her torso to cup her breasts.

Jaskier was still oddly still against her. 

"What's wrong?"

Jaskier swallowed. "I'm worried you're going to kill me."

"Oh, Jaskier," Yennefer smiled, surprising herself with her own fondness. "I still might."

"Okay," Jaskier said, and began holding her breasts in earnest. Yennefer gasped as calloused thumbs brushed her nipples, and Jaskier began to press kisses into the side of her neck. She almost didn't notice when Geralt finished pulling the boxers down, only pausing to step daintily out of them.

"Yen," he rumbled. He was sitting back on his heels, now. Yennefer could feel Jaskier's slack jaw on her shoulder. 

She had to admit, Geralt made quite the picture; his hair hanging loose around his shoulders, his face flush with frustrated arousal, and now fully, achingly hard.

"Yen," he said again, through clenched teeth. "The key."

"What key?"

Before Geralt's face could pop, Jaskier jumped back. "Oh! I've got this," he went over to Geralt. "I can get those off."

"I'm sure," said Yennefer.

"If there's one thing I can help with, it's getting out of handcuffs under duress. Have you got a bobby pin?"

* * *

Fortunately for all involved, Yennefer wasn't using industry-standard handcuffs; that would've been trickier. But with a few twists of the pin, Jaskier was able to pop them open.

"Ha!" but his mouth went dry, as he was confronted with the reality being this close to Geralt's arse in an exhilarating new context. 

Before that could be fully explored, though, Geralt was flexing his surely-very-stiff arms and turning around to stand, pulling Jaskier up with him. He put his hands to the side of Jaskier's face, surprisingly tender.

"Hey," Geralt said. "I like you. A lot."

Jaskier nodded, eyes wide. "Me too. Obviously."

Geralt gave him an almost bashful smile before he kissed him, deep and dirty.

Jaskier groaned and gasped into it. "Wait, wait," he said, and Geralt froze. But all he said was, "I'm feeling very overdressed."

"You are." Both of them snapped their attention to Yennefer, who was now reclining on her side on the couch, her cheek propped on one hand while the fingers of the other toyed with her left nipple, looking like some erotic oil painting.

"Geralt, you should help him with that."

Geralt gave a short nod.

Jaskier bit his lip. "Does that mean I have to stop touching you?"

"You don't have to," Geralt said, "But this will take a lot longer. How attached are you to that shirt?"

"Not--hey!" Jaskier gasped as Geralt ripped the shirt open, his expression somewhere between furious and desperately turned on.

"Oh, go on. That shirt was awful," Yennefer called out encouragingly. 

Geralt was kissing the line of Jaskier's jaw, perhaps by way of apology, even as Jaskier flapped his hands.

"Not the jeans, not the jeans, these are very expensive jeans." Jaskier hurried to undo the button-fly himself, shucking them down past his thighs.

Yennefer gave an approving little hum. "Eager, are we?"

Jaskier could feel heat prickle to the back of his neck. He had been straining against his jeans for some time now, and expensive or not, they had been getting increasingly constricting and worryingly sticky. He kicked them off and away.

Yennefer eyed him, her violet gaze raking across his skin. "It's almost a shame," she mused, "I hoped we might get to see you in some of your cute little briefs."

"Well excuse _me_ ," Jaskier said, blushing hotly and now very naked, "If I'd had some prior notice, I might've dressed for the occasion."

"It's better like this," Geralt ran his fingertips up the underside of Jaskier's straining cock, and Jaskier _yelped_. "It's quicker."

"Not so fast," Yennefer sat up from her position on the couch. "I was willing to let you go first if you talked to him, but you didn't. I did."

"I'd hardly call that 'talking'," Geralt muttered.

"It counts. Jaskier, if you would," she gestured to the floor in front of her. 

Jaskier took a last look at Geralt, winking, before he sank to the floor between Yennefer's legs, running his hands over her silken thighs before he placed them over his bare shoulders. He nipped and licked up the inside of her thigh, tasting the sweat beading there as she keened, high and lovely.

Jaskier could hear Geralt's broken moan behind them even as he bent to taste the slick heat of Yennefer's cunt.

"Jaskier," Yennefer gasped, her voice thick with arousal, "Keep-- _ahh_ \--keep doing that. Geralt, whatever you do, do not touch yourself."

Another moan. " _Yen_ \--"

"You don't come," Yennefer said, between breathy gasps, "Until I do. And Jaskier's not done yet." Yennefer reached down to half-pet, half-tug at Jaskier's hair. "Isn't that right?"

Jaskier had been circling her entrance with two fingers as the flat of his tongue teased her clit, and, as if to answer her, he dipped his fingers inside as she gasped, clenching around him. Jaskier worked her, stroking and tasting her, until at last he curled his fingers forward, making her curse and shout.

Jaskier knew Yennefer had come, but she didn't tap out yet, and he wouldn't want her to think he was rushing. So he returned to his ministrations, licking up her heady release and twisting in her until he wrung out another orgasm, deeper and louder than the last.

At that, Yennefer pulled him off the floor, gripping his hair and kissing the taste of herself out of his mouth.

"There," she looked over Jaskier's shoulder, "I think you've waited long enough."

Jaskier turned to look in the same direction, and felt a desperate pulse of heat to his cock. 

Geralt was an absolute _mess_. He was panting like a lathered horse, his eyes blown wide, his body shiny with sweat and sticky with precum. Geralt clearly had never looked away from them; he looked like he could barely blink. As Jaskier licked his own bottom lip, he saw Geralt's cock give a twitch, a pained breath escaping his throat. 

"What would you do with him, Geralt?" Yennefer purred.

"Jaskier," Geralt panted, "I want to suck your dick. Please, let me."

Jaskier thanked whatever bit of composure had kept him from embarrassing himself right then and there, just from the rough, pleading edge clear in Geralt's voice. He nodded, shaking, and Geralt pulled him clean off his feet, tugging him by the ankles until he was lying in front of him.

"And feel free to touch yourself, now," Yennefer drawled from the couch.

With a sudden, sharp grin, Geralt sank almost horizontal between Jaskier's legs, swallowing him down so deep that his nose brushed the curls at the root even as he took himself in hand.

"Fuck, _Geralt_ \--" Jaskier gave a half-moan, half-swear, one hand scrabbling for purchase against the floor, the other sinking into Geralt's hair, tugging lightly at Geralt's encouraging groans.

" _Geralt_ "-- he moaned again, his back arching off the floor, seeking the velvet heat of Geralt's mouth, the firm pressure of his hand.

He could see Geralt's other hand working between his own broad thighs, knees braced against the hardwood floor. His scarred, toned shoulder flexed as he worked himself in time with the thrusts of Jaskier's hips.

"I just wish," Jaskier breathed to Geralt's lust-darkened eyes, " That I could've fucked you. Would you like that?"

"He does," Yennefer supplied helpfully.

"Good," Jaskier grinned, and Geralt murmured something around a mouthful of cock.

"I'd make it so good for you," Jaskier promised, running fingertips along Geralt's high cheekbone. "I'd work you open nice and slow, first with my mouth--" Geralt groaned, "--then my fingers. Would you ride me, Geralt? Set the pace, and leave me breathless? Or will you be tied to the bed with pretty ropes, and let me take, and take, and _take_ \--" 

Geralt came with a deep, guttural sound, and the vibrations of it sent Jaskier off the edge with him, coming down Geralt's throat with a shout even as Geralt striped his own stomach.

" _Very_ well done," Yennefer sighed, and Jaskier saw that she was pulling her fingers out from between her legs, languid and smiling. "And don't worry, Jaskier. We can discuss all of those possibilities next time."

Jaskier perked up, boneless as he was. "Next time?"

"Oh, yes." Geralt tossed a washcloth to Jaskier. "Oh, and Yen. You forgot this," he said, handing her a glass of water.

She gave him a smirk, and took a long sip. Geralt pulled Jaskier onto the couch, nuzzling against his throat.

"So tactile," Jaskier kissed the top of his head, and a hum sounded from deep in Geralt's chest.

Jasker looked around at the three of them. "This poor couch," he said.

"The slipcovers come off," Yennefer petted his hair.

"I really don't want to know why you know that, do I."

"Yes you do," Yennefer gave him another dangerous grin, "And you'll soon find out."

Jaskier gave her a lopsided smile, and snuggled closer between the two of them. Geralt's arm wrapped around Jaskier's waist to Yennefer's hip, and Yennefer stroked at Jaskier's shoulder and Geralt's knee. Geralt's head was pillowed against Jaskier's torso, and Jaskier's hand rested on Yennefer's thigh.

Yes, Jaskier would soon join them in making the thumps that had so often kept him up at night. But now, and together, they would rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This one was a *long* time in the making, possibly since before [The Care and Keeping of Wolves](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23124709). 
> 
> Many thanks to my beta readers, and to you! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.


End file.
